


flying like a bird to you now

by nighimpossible



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: (Faux) Mind Control, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cardan Is A Wife Guy Now, Cunnilingus, F/M, No spoilers for Queen of Nothing, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21527824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighimpossible/pseuds/nighimpossible
Summary: “I'll command you to come home,” Cardan says softly. His expression fades from victor to something murkier and less decipherable. His quiet beg is a strange way to demand fealty.“You know that won’t work,” Jude says, a shiver running up her spine.“We’ll play pretend,” Cardan says. “Lie to me, Jude. You’ve always been good at that.”
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 21
Kudos: 454





	flying like a bird to you now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> 90% of this was written before Queen of Nothing came out, and then Queen of Nothing came out and gave me the inspiration to complete the fic. No spoilers here! Consider it canon divergent from Wicked King onwards.
> 
> For Jordan! We love Cardan the Wife Guy, don't we.
> 
> Title from "Shrike," by Hozier.

“ _Your highness_ ,” a voice drawls from behind Jude.

Jude jumps, dropping the milk and eggs in her plastic bag on the asphalt of the parking lot. The same voice begins to chuckle beneath its breath. It’s a voice Jude wishes that she knew _less_ intimately. It’s a voice Jude wishes she could forget entirely.

It’s a voice that sticks in her head like a fly trapped in honey.

“You wicked man,” Jude hisses, turning on her heel and facing the High King of Elfhame. Jude has a knife in her right hand that she managed to pluck from her boot as her fear turned to action. It usually does. Madoc would be proud—in another universe where he didn’t want to see his lesser daughter dead.

“Now, now,” Cardan grins, nodding towards a sleek black car with what appears to be an armed guard in tow. She thinks she sees the green skin of The Roach in the driver's seat. “Let’s be civil.”

“ _Civil?_ ” Jude growls, fingers tightening on her knife. An older woman pushing a grocery cart gives her weapon a strange look. “You _betrayed me_.”

“Are you alright there, dear?” the woman asks Jude, looking between the knife and Cardan. 

Cardan’s eyes thin as he turns to the bystander. “You never saw us. Go back inside the store. _Now_.” The magic from his glamour has the woman racing towards the Stop and Shop with real speed.

“Does your kingdom bore you, my liege?” Jude asks, her heart beating in her throat. “I never thought the Mortal Realm would be a place for such an _honored guest._ ” The words drip from her lips with enough Malice that Cardan flinches ever so slightly.

Cardan’s eyes are bright with mirth, but Jude is rather tired of being a laughingstock. “Enough. I’m here to make a deal.” He grins, his smile all teeth and without warmth. “Get in.”

* * *

“If you really want to come home, there are things you could do to cut short your exile,” Cardan tells her while looking down at his fingernails.

_Home_. Jude almost laughs.

“Pass,” Jude says lightly, though acting casual around him is like pulling teeth. This is not how she expected to be reunited with her _loving_ _husband_. Cardan’s dark eyes flick up at her refusal, shining at her like polished obsidian. She cannot look away from him. “I’m actually enjoying my banishment.”

Cardan makes a surprised noise. His gaze dips down to her mouth, and Jude’s lips begin to tingle slightly like they’ve been stung. “That wasn’t the song you were singing when I sent you here.”

Jude’s mouth tightens at the memory of her humiliation. “I was a fool then,” she admits. _I was a fool, thinking that you loved me_. Jude tilts her chin up at Cardan before taking a step closer. _I was a fool then, as I am now_ is what she doesn’t add. Cardan seems to hear her unspoken sentiment regardless.

“I'll command you to come home,” Cardan says softly. His expression fades from victor to something murkier and less decipherable. His quiet beg is a strange way to demand fealty.

“You know that won’t work,” Jude says, a shiver running up her spine.

“We’ll play pretend,” Cardan says. “Lie to me, Jude. You’ve always been good at that.”

Even in the strange fluorescent lighting of the hotel room he’s managed to procure for the evening, Cardan looks every bit the High King of Elfhame. His lips are full and slightly parted, always ready for a taunt or a kiss. His dark hair curls lightly at the nape of his neck, each lock perfect in its twirling. Jude remembers clutching at him by those very same curls. 

She wants to hold him again. She wants to go _home_ with him. She wants _him_.

“You’ll take me home,” Jude says.

Cardan’s expression softens. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” It’s a ludicrous offer, but one that Jude knows is the truth.

“And you want me to come back?” Jude asks. “This isn’t some kind of trick?”

“I’d ask if you were tired of fighting me, but I know the answer,” Cardan sighs. “No, it’s not a trick. It’s a proposal.”

“I thought you already proposed,” Jude says shrewdly.

“I thought you were my _wife_ ,” Cardan bites back. He sounds strangely bitter, like Jude was the one who betrayed _him_. And while they had both betrayed each other over and over again, Cardan’s tone sounds like the sting of her absence has not yet faded.

“You were the one who sent me away,” Jude points out.

“And you were supposed to be the clever one,” Cardan sighs. It’s clear there’s more to what he wants her to know, but he’s unwilling to say more for now. And in this moment, for Jude—that’s alright with her. It’s enough to be here, in this dingy hotel room, with the one person in the world who hates her more than she hates herself. Perhaps Cardan will make Jude do things that will be a fitting punishment for her failure.

“Fine,” Jude says softly. It's what she deserves.

Cardan raises an eyebrow, like he expected her to say something else.

“ _Crawl to me_ ,” Cardan commands, the glamour dripping off his tongue like sickly sweet honey. Jude feels the magic wash over her: strong and unrelenting, powerful enough to make the world bend to his will. But Jude has been able to resist this magic since Dain’s gift was bestowed upon her so many moons ago. This is a tide she can resist.

Still, sometimes she thinks it would be nice to drown in that sea. And here Cardan is, ready to hold her head under the surf, like he knows exactly how long she can hold her breath.

So Jude drops to her hands and knees and Cardan, for his part, goes deathly still. Perhaps he had not expected her compliance so readily. He looks like he’s going to back down for a moment, and then Jude puts one hand in front of another. Her knees scrape the carpeting as she moves toward the High King, toward her husband—toward her traitorous husband.

“I’ve been told to beware beautiful creatures,” Cardan finally admits as Jude stills at his feet. “I should know better than to get taken in. I should know so much better.” He takes his hand and wraps it around the point of Jude’s chin, tugging her face to look up at him. “ _Get up_. I’ve never wanted you on your knees like this.”

Jude raises an eyebrow and a strange blush comes across Cardan’s cheeks. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jude takes her time getting to her feet. She stands up so that she’s no more than a few inches away from Cardan, slow and steady though her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She can feel Cardan’s breath against her cheek. “Get on the bed. _Now_ ,” Cardan adds.

Jude growls under her breath but obeys, walking backwards to sit on the edge of the large mattress. Cardan moves between her legs, pressing them apart in a wide straddle. Jude’s traitorous body seeps with desire. As much as Jude has tried to forget the memory of Cardan’s bare skin against her own, this familiar want is impossible to erase. “I’m not asking you to play nice,” Cardan sneers. “I’m just asking you to play.”

Jude widens her stance around Cardan, the sides of her knees nearly hitting the mattress. His eyes darken. “So let’s play,” she suggests. If Jude can get Cardan to lose his composure, to lose whatever agenda he walked into the Mortal Realm with, then perhaps she’s got a fighting chance after all.

Cardan smirks, and Jude knows she’s walked straight into a trap. “Hands behind your back.”

Jude hesitates and Cardan raises an eyebrow, like he expected this. “Fine,” Jude huffs, clasping her hands at the small of her back.

“ _Keep them there_ ,” Cardan commands, glamour dripping from every word.

Jude locks her elbows tightly. He cannot glamour her, not anymore—but she can attempt to obey. This whole charade is a dare, and one she’ll gladly take.

Cardan skirts his hands up Jude’s bare arms. He grasps her neck with one broad, fine fingered hand and takes her chin with the other. One delicate thumb runs over her bottom lip, and Jude shudders at the touch. These are hands that have never known hard labor: they feel uncalloused and soft, even against her sensitive lips. “My lost little queen,” Cardan sneers. “What do you want?”

“I’m no one’s queen,” Jude dares, tilting her chin up at him. “You made that perfectly clear.”

Cardan’s eyes are blown wide and dark. He ignores her taunt. “I’ll always find you, _wife_. Haven’t I already proven that?” It’s a boast and a promise in one fell swoop. But when Jude’s eyes close, she still sees the Undersea. Her brow furrows, and she feels his thumb pause against her skin. 

“You took your time finding me.” Jude means the words to come out scathing, but instead her breath catches in the back of her throat. “Beneath the waves.” It’s a weakness she cannot afford to show.

Cardan’s grip around her throat tightens. Jude feels fully possessed by him: something pretty enough to be kept under his thumb. Perhaps that is her true victory: a human girl worthy of this wicked king’s affection. “That won’t happen again,” Cardan swears.

But he can’t stop prodding the open wound, that _idiot_. Anger and hurt bubble under Jude’s skin like lightning. He doesn’t know what the world has in store for her. He _can’t_ know that. “Prove it,” she snarls.

Cardan kisses her in retaliation and it’s game over. He is demanding and deliciously smothering and it’s all Jude can do not to claw at him with her nails and bring him in closer. One set of dexterous fingers tangle in her brown hair, locking her in place. “Jude, Jude, Jude,” Cardan murmurs against her lips. His words are less a taunt than simple resignation. “Will we ever learn?”

_Clearly not_ , Jude thinks to herself. Instead, she nips at Cardan’s bottom lip—hard enough to leave a mark, soft enough not to draw blood.

“ _Hey_ ,” Cardan barks at the pain.

“What?” Jude asks innocently, raising another eyebrow up at him. Cardan nurses at his bitten bottom lip with his pink tongue so that his mouth shines in the low light of the room. It is swollen and inviting for another kiss or twenty.

“Get your damn pants off,” Cardan finally hisses, releasing her from his grip entirely. It’s not even a glamoured command, but Jude obeys all the same. The jeans Vee bought her slide down easily enough, and daringly, Jude steps out of her underwear as well. Might as well stay one step ahead of her loving husband.

Cardan’s eyes drift down towards her nakedness and Jude tries to quell her nerves. The last time they had been intimate had been the night they had promised themselves to each other. The light had been dim and Jude had been lost in the feelings of a promise that Cardan consequently broke. In the light of this small room, Cardan doesn’t need to see her knees shake. He doesn’t get to see that—not after what he tricked her into relinquishing her power. 

How foolish she was, to trust a Faerie king. To trust _him_.

But that’s what the two of them do: betray each other. Over and over, one person winning, one person losing. Jude has stopped keeping score.

Cardan takes a step forward and wraps her in his arms, pressing her hair back and away from her face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asks her. _To me_ are the words Cardan leaves unsaid, but Jude knows what he means all the same.

“I’m sor—,” she whispers, suddenly locked into his gaze. It burns her from the inside out. Her voice dies in the back of her throat.

“You’ve ruined me for other people,” Cardan murmurs. “You can’t just apologize for that.”

He’s right, but he’s not alone. He’s right, but she can’t tell him that. So instead, Jude pulls Cardan by the shirt towards the bed. He follows.

Cardan kisses his way down Jude’s neck and beyond her collarbone as her tee-shirt rides up. “We’ve done terrible things to each other,” Cardan hums against her skin. He settles himself in between her thighs and Jude has to look away. It’s too much to look upon without perishing on the spot. Cardan presses his mouth against the skin of her low belly. “Such terrible things, Jude.”

Jude’s head snaps back to stare as Cardan says her name for the first time since he appeared in the Mortal Realm. “Now I have your attention,” Cardan grins up at her.

“You never lost it,” Jude admits. It’s true: even in exile, Jude’s thoughts often drifted to her estranged husband: to the quirk of his lip, or how he once held her body close. How they used to circle around each other like they had been trapped by the same riptide. Cardan’s smile startles into shock.

“So you thought of me in the months that have passed,” Cardan murmurs. “Just as I thought of you. Just as I dreamed of you.”

“You dreamed of me?” Jude asks. 

“What else would I dream about?” Cardan smirks. In response, Jude reaches down to grab Cardan by the hair. It’s not a gentle gesture, but it does ground her. Cardan groans, low and aching, as Jude scratches her nails against his scalp. He kisses her inner thigh. “Consider this the beginnings of my apology.”

His tongue is serpentine in his exploration of her hot core, licking and sucking at her. She tries to stay silent at first, but when Cardan looks up at her, face bright and slick from her own slick, he shakes his head. “Tell me what you like. I want to hear you.”

So Jude stops muffling her moans and whimpers as he licks at her for what could easily have been minutes or hours. Jude loses track somewhere between Cardan’s tongue on her skin and the feeling of his shoulder bolstered behind her thigh. Cardan deftly works his long fingers inside, petting her gently and sending tendrils of pleasure through her core. 

“Please, more,” Jude half-begs, rolling her hips so that his tongue can reach further depths. “I want you closer.”

“You’ll come first,” he says, and it’s not a glamour or a command but Jude shudders around him all the same. Cardan looks surprised as she clenches his fingers tightly inside her core. Jude whines into the feeling, rolling halfway onto her side to escape the overstimulation.

“I thought your geas protected you from commands,” Cardan comments quietly.

“It does,” Jude gasps, the aftershocks still shaking through her. Her hair is cast in a shade across her face, and Jude feels as Cardan reaches up the brush it aside. When Jude looks up, she sees that Cardan’s eyes are dark and wide with desire.

“Tell me what you want.” Cardan’s words are barely a command. In fact, in the right light, they could sound like a beg.

She shows him instead by pulling him in close, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I don’t want anyone but you,” she sighs. “And if that means I’m ruined, then I’m ruined too.”

Cardan kisses her after she says that. He kisses her like there’s no other option, like anything besides laying his mouth upon her lips is pure sacrilege. It feels like it’s been an eternity since they’ve kissed, but Jude approximates that it’s been what—a few minutes? How weak has she become that this intimacy feels like coming up for fresh air?

Perhaps this is the ruination Cardan had spoken about. Perhaps she really is ruined.

If this is what being ruined feels like, Jude will take it any day.

Jude feels a wetness at the corner of her eyes and when Cardan pulls back to disrobe, he notes it as well. “You’re crying,” he whispers. “Are you sad?”

“No,” Jude tells him plainly. “I’m not sad at all.”

Cardan wipes away her tears with one kiss, and then another—his lips brushing the thin and tender skin near her eyelashes. “Even when you circled me like a hunter circling its prey, I loved you,” he tells her. “I would have let you wear my skin as a trophy. It would have been a fitting end.”

“And now?” Jude asks as Cardan settles between her legs, his hard length pressing against her core.

“I would have no other wife,” Cardan says simply. “And you are still free to end my life, if you must. Though I think that perhaps I’ve proved some worth.” He nudges at her folds and Jude whines softly.

“Some,” Jude nods, rolling her hips down to take more of Cardan. The sound she elicits from him is reward enough: it’s a low deep hiss that Jude wants to hear more of.

“Will you tell me what you need?” Cardan says softly. There is a tightness in his voice that Jude could drown in. Their play-act of glamour, of compelling Jude’s obedience is long over. Jude answers all the same.

“You. Just you,” Jude whispers. “Move, please—”

Cardan moves.

Jude doesn’t know when she became this monster—this person who would burn the world for hurting her loved ones. What she knows this night is that if anyone hurt Cardan, she would flay their soul from their body.

“Mine,” she whispers. Cardan bites at her neck in reply.

“Yes,” he murmurs back, his words floating over her skin like waves crashing over a beach. “All yours, Jude. _Jude, Jude, Jude_.” His hips punctuate each time he says her name.

* * *

“When do we return to Elfhame?” Jude asks. Her face rests on the plane of Cardan’s stomach, and she kisses the skin there gently.

“On the morrow,” Cardan shrugs. “Or never.” He threads his fingers through Jude’s hair gently. “We could leave Madoc the throne and learn to live as paupers in the mortal realm.”

“You wouldn’t survive,” Jude laughs.

“I _would_ ,” Cardan says, outrage in his voice. Jude looks up at him, and his face is all fondness. “I have you.”

Jude smiles. “We have to save your people.”

“Our people,” Cardan reminds her. “What's mine is your and likewise, _w_ _ife_.”

“If you say that word enough, it will stop having meaning,” Jude chastises, but she blushes all the same.

“You know, I think you’re wrong there. _Wife, wife, wife_ ,” Cardan repeats, stroking her back over and over. He stops. “I know we need to return. I just—had a dream, once.”

“Of us?” Jude asks.

“Of us. Here. Happy,” Cardan says softly. “Unburdened.”

Jude frowns before she decides to give him a shred of hope. “Maybe someday.”

The smile she gets in return is beatific and Jude knows she said the right thing.


End file.
